


The World Is Crooked

by rispacooper



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Drunkenness, Dry Humping, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Future Fic, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Nipple Play, Smut, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-04
Updated: 2012-09-04
Packaged: 2017-11-13 12:56:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/503768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rispacooper/pseuds/rispacooper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Commentfic porn for Smut Monday. Stiles goes for it, things happen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The World Is Crooked

**Author's Note:**

  * For [coffeebuddha](https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeebuddha/gifts).



> This is sometime after Season Two, I didn't put a specific date but in my head when I started this random commentfic, I decided it had been a while, at least a year, maybe more, since the events of S.2 and Stiles and Derek have a weird friendship going on. Stiles is still too young to be drinking though... and stealing his dad's liquor. So underage warnings in a sense, but not really. 
> 
> For coffeebuddha and her amazing porn gifs and for whatever made everyone on Tumblr post porn on the same day creating Smut Monday. Also for whoever posted that original smutty crotch grab gif.

Stiles knew he was drunk, he was flushed and hot all over, itching with sweat under his flannel but shivering at the same time. He was so dizzy that he wobbled when he tried to stand up and his room did this unpleasant tilting, spinning thing that made him lurch forward. He was definitely, wonderfully drunk.  


But none of that changed what he was going to do, because he’d been watching a lot of porn and Derek kept taking his shirt off around him and he couldn’t help but notice things like that. Derek with his shirt off was like different porn, like the intro to porn while the rest of the porn played out in Stiles’ head and gave him weird thoughts about things he ought to try.  


Stiles’ nipples were pretty sensitive, especially to cold or the pinch of his just-licked fingers when he was alone. He didn’t know about werewolf senses on that particular issue, but he knew Derek’s nipples were always hard when his clothes come off and that his room wasn’t that cold for that to happen.  


So while Derek was standing there growling about some smell on the shirt that he just took off Stiles stumbled forward and bent his head to put his mouth right there, right over the left one, just trying to warm up the little guy.  


Derek started, stiffened, but Stiles had to put his hands flat on his chest to stay up and he could feel Derek’s heartbeat as he put his tongue against the pebbled point of skin and moaned a little.  


He didn’t know what he was expecting, for it to taste salty, to get pushed away maybe, but that wasn’t happening. It tasted like skin, warm and soft and it kind of rasped against his tongue and Derek was most definitely not pushing him away. His hands landed on Stiles’ shoulders but they clamped down tight. Stiles couldn’t tell if Derek was trying to hold him there or use him to stay up but he didn’t really care because the world was still swirling around him and he had Derek’s nipple in his mouth and it was all he could do not to drag his teeth over it.  


He couldn’t really figure out why he wasn’t doing that actually, so he let out a breath that made Derek shudder and then he scraped his bottom teeth up over the skin.  


Someone made a rough sound and Stiles pushed his hands against Derek’s chest in warning, flexing his fingers into the hot muscle. _Don’t make me stop._  


Derek’s grip tightened on him, to the point where it hurt, even though Stiles was numb, but Derek’s heart was hammering against Stiles’ palm and his skin was so hot next to Stiles’ face, like he was just as flushed, like he was burning up like Stiles was. He could even have been blushing, not that Stiles was going to look up now to see. He could feel the sting in his own cheeks and sucked carefully over the skin he just scraped raw with his teeth.  


Derek jerked, his whole body making one startled motion toward Stiles, so Stiles moaned and did it again, dragging his teeth up and then swallowing wetly around the little point on his tongue. He was kind of expecting Derek to speak but Derek was silent except for the harsh sound of his breathing. He sounded like he’d just run for miles, like he’d run long enough to exhaust even a werewolf and Stiles couldn’t really figure that out because this should be nothing for Derek, Derek should be getting laid all the time, he should be getting freaking worshiped all the time, one inch at a time, by his own wolves or the nearest passing human. As far as Stiles knew he had been, he was, but he was clinging to Stiles’ shoulders and shaking like no one had touched him in years, as if he was as desperate as Stiles was.  


Stiles growled at the thought, because that just wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair at all for Derek to need this and want this like he did. Derek opened his mouth, his breathing suddenly louder, and Stiles bit down, vicious and pissed for the second before Derek said his name and then he was kissing warm, bruising skin. He wet it with his spit and rolled it against his tongue until Derek slid his hands to his neck to hold him there.  


He was shaking. Stiles opened his eyes but only for a moment, just to see how he’d darkened Derek’s nipple and left it shiny. He had done that. Oh shit.  


“You stopped.”  


Stiles honestly had no idea how to interpret what Derek was saying or how he said it. There were things in the words, feelings maybe, but the thought of Derek having feelings was like the thought of Derek shaking because Stiles had put his mouth on him. Only Derek _was_ shaking because Stiles had put his mouth on him. Derek was breathing deeply in and out and shivering under Stiles’ hands.  


“Yeah I….” Stiles had to stop to lick his buzzing lips and swallow excess spit. His voice sounded funny, thick and sort of slow. Hot. He addressed Derek’s nipple. “Yeah I don’t really know what I’m doing.” He leaned forward and gave that nipple another lick, in case it was feeling neglected. “The world is crooked and your shirt is always off.”  


“You smell like whiskey,” Derek told him, like that was at all helpful or complimentary. “You never shut up.”  


Stiles frowned at Derek’s chest and then straightened up before raising his chin. “Hey.”  


Derek kissed him, his mouth sliding against the corner of Stiles’ lips before he angled Stiles’ head into it to make it deeper. Stiles could feel him breathing hard against his cheek and then into his mouth and flailed his hands out and up, swaying forward with a total lack of grace that he was blaming on the booze. Derek pushed against him with his whole body so Stiles opened his mouth and tried to figure out what to do now, which turned out to mostly involve groaning and shifting forward to make Derek make these pleased noises, quiet, greedy little noises that Stiles might have missed if he hadn’t been pressed chest to chest with Derek now.  


It was wet and it was awesome. He put his hands at the back of Derek’s neck and scraped his fingernails through his hair and let Derek lick his mouth open for what was either the world’s longest kiss or lots of slow, dirty kisses, each one a little longer and a little dirtier.  


Or so Stiles assumed, since with each one Derek’s hands moved further down his back and squeezed a little harder.  


Derek’s stubble burned. Stiles shoved at him for it, though when Derek tried to pull away Stiles yanked his hair to bring him back down. He kissed Derek this time, sliding his tongue into Derek’s mouth like it was nothing and hoping that it was as hot to Derek as it was to him. If he was the only one into this he might actually die.  


“Might actually die,” he panted, like a drunken idiot, and Derek moved his head so that Stiles could feel the scratch of his stubble against his neck.  


“No.” Derek said it like that was any kind of answer. Just “No” as he hauled Stiles closer by his ass and rocked forward.  


“Yes,” Stiles countered, hissing just a little and clawing at Derek’s skin, because that, that was a hard dick that was not Stiles’ hard dick and it was pressing against him. He was saying yes to everything. “Dude, yes.”  


Derek opened his mouth to suck at Stiles’ throat and Stiles realized with a flash of dizzy insight that they were dry humping in the middle of his room and he should get drunk all the time because this was awesome. Then he thought that they shouldn’t call it dry humping, because Derek’s mouth was wet on him, and hot, and he was willing to bet that if Derek wore boxers, they’d be slick and damp right now over his dick.  
Did Derek wear boxers? Stiles wondered the next second, and cupped Derek’s dick without any further thought.  


Derek sort of curled into him and whimpered.  


“Yes,” Stiles murmured, sliding his tongue over Derek’s shoulder. “Yes I can work with this.”  


When he’d imagined this, and Stiles had imagined it a lot, he had never thought he’d be the one making Derek shudder against him, or that he’d be the first one to get his hand down pants. Derek had on underwear, though Stiles wasn’t stopping to check what kind. He was just surprised to feel it, the fabric soft like cotton and thin, so thin that once he tugged at Derek’s fly to get the button undone and shoved his hand into Derek’s waistband it was almost like touching his skin.  


Derek exhaled his name. Stiles took it as permission to keep going, so he shut his eyes and slipped his fingers under the cotton until he was holding Derek’s dick in his hand. “This is a very good thing.” Stiles was barely breathing. Derek just said his name again, a little plea against his neck.  


“Yeah,” Stiles agreed, kind of easing back until the room tilted again and his ceiling and Derek were above him. He realized he was on his bed, his legs dangling over the side, then decided that he didn’t really care where he was except that this meant he didn’t have to keep his balance anymore. He could focus on other things.  


He dragged Derek’s mouth down to his because he liked this kissing thing and Derek seemed to like it too. Derek let out a shaky groan against his lips when Stiles pushed his jeans further out of the way so he could jack him without breaking his wrist.  


Sometimes Stiles thought he was the only one who ever got that hard, like the days he’d rush home from school to stroke himself against the door at the memory of someone, anyone, touching him, or the days after Derek would grab his shoulders or his elbow or walk around in some sweaty tight t-shirt. But Derek was so hard and shaking for it, thrusting into Stiles’ hand and then stopping like he wasn’t sure if he should.  


Stiles put his head back to let Derek drop down to kiss at his neck and make these weird growling sounds. Weird, sexy, growling sounds, with huffing little breaths in between them, and Stiles thought of hyperventilating and panic attacks and then werewolves and sniffing and wasn’t sure which it was, so he whispered, “Just touch me, okay?” and cried out, really, really, embarrassingly loudly, when Derek shoved his shirt up and ran his hand down to Stiles’ waist.  


He did it twice, from his heart to his belly button, and then leaned in closer to pull at Stiles’ zipper and spread his fly wide open.  


Stiles stopped moving, stopped doing anything but inhaling and exhaling and pushing up against Derek’s hand. “Someone else is touching my dick.” His voice was still so different, quieter now, almost like he was getting sober. “Derek you’re touching my dick.” He opened his eyes, because he must have closed them, though he wasn’t dreaming. Even in his dreams Derek should have laughed at something like that, but now he just paused for a second before leaning over him. His eyes were steady on Stiles’ face as he got a good grip on Stiles’ dick and started to stroke him.  


Stiles didn’t know where to look, but Derek was staring at him like he was waiting to see something in his face so he stared back, frowning and trying not to squirm and then just gasping because _oh holy god_ it felt good. “Derek.” He grabbed at Derek’s back and then his hips to try to push him down or make it go faster or just not stop. Derek was so hot, his hand was so hot, and a little dry, but he was milking out drops of pre-come from Stiles with his thumb and his breath hitched every time Stiles pushed up for more.  


They were barely even sounds but Stiles heard them, he couldn’t help but hear them with Derek so close. He licked his lips and left them open and watched Derek watch him.  


“Creeper,” he rasped out, but Derek only blinked before ducking his head back down to say something against Stiles’ throat. Stiles couldn’t make out the words, just the small, “You mean it” that preceded the strange, soft bite under his ear. There was another bite at his shoulder a moment later, and then one at his collarbone. They tickled, scratching with not enough force to make him come, but enough to make him want to like nothing else in the world.  


He had to pull with all his strength to get Derek down and on top of him but then he was biting Derek back just as softly, pressing his teeth into skin and licking over the spot and letting Derek grind down against him.

It felt good. He couldn’t think it felt so good. Their dicks were almost touching, _were_ touching, except for the sticky, chafing fabric of Stiles’ boxers and when he whined Derek eased up for a second to push them out of the way and then pull his own pants down. Stiles decided to help him, sitting up enough to try and then getting distracted by skin and Derek’s ass and the skin of Derek’s ass. He fell back down and just kind of moaned because this was only going to encourage him to drink more in the future.  


Derek paused at the sound to look at him again and honestly, that was enough with the looking. Stiles put a hand down between them and dragged his other hand up along Derek’s spine until his fingers were back in Derek’s hair. He gave a little pull and then Derek was back down over him, panting against his mouth for a second before he got the hint and licked the corner of Stiles’ lips. He thrust down at the same time and Stiles shut his eyes as he lined their dicks up and stroked with a seriously firm hand. It was still rough and not slick enough but Stiles wasn’t going to stop to bother with lotion or spit. He turned his head so stubble rubbed against his bottom lip and gripped Derek’s skin tighter at the burn.  


There were tremors under his hands, like Derek was shivering uncontrollably, or about to come, and there was a thought, Derek coming, coming all over Stiles, like dirty, dirty porn, only the kind with kissing, because Stiles wanted more kissing too. He wanted all the kissing. He eased his head back and whined again and Derek’s mouth instantly slid over his. It didn’t last long, but he did it again when Stiles raised his head to follow his mouth.  


Derek was definitely shaking now, maybe with the strain of staying up and jacking them both at the same time. Stiles shoved him at him, taking him by surprise enough to push Derek over. Derek didn’t seem to mind being on his back, not from the way he was looking at Stiles as Stiles slid over him and rolled his hips down and no, he didn’t know what he was doing, but it felt good, and Derek just kept touching him. His hands pulled at Stiles’ ass, keeping him there, pushing him down harder, and okay yeah.  


“I am going to make you come,” Stiles announced stupidly as he realized it and yes, his face was burning up, but Derek wasn’t stopping him, he just tensed and glanced up and then grinned, just out of nowhere fucking grinned at him.  


Like Derek was _happy_ about that. “Oh it is on,” Stiles told him and leaned down to put his mouth back on Derek’s nipple. He bit without hesitating this time and thrust down to feel the press of hard dick against his. Derek held on tighter, letting out a breath, so Stiles did it again. He grabbed Derek’s hips and bruised his chest and Derek exhaled into his hair and trailed his hands down his back, as if it didn’t hurt, as if he was still just happy to be there. Stiles had to kiss him for that, or at least his nipple, laving it softly with his tongue while still grasping at Derek’s sides.  


Derek’s hands moved toward his ass and that was almost too much. Stiles jerked for a moment, kind of wishing, kind of hoping, and then Derek growled and he got the message. “Not now, I get it,” Stiles growled right back and kept his head down. “Later though, right?”  


“Stiles.” Derek’s hands were hot through Stiles’ jeans, urging him on, to go faster, like Stiles needed the encouragement, not with a hard, throbbing dick sliding against his. He liked the sounds Derek wasn’t holding back anymore, and the taste of his skin. He bit at it, then arched up to use his hands, looking at Derek as he did it because he could be a creeper too.  


Derek growled, but it was quiet, and he just kept rocking Stiles down against him and moving his hips up to meet him. His hands tightened, just for a second, so Stiles could feel the warning, but he stayed where he was and ground his hips down until Derek shut his eyes and bucked up. His come was a wet shock, burning into Stiles’ skin and all over Derek’s stomach, sticky and white and streaming, streaming forever, like it had been _years_ since the last time Derek had come. Stiles had never been so proud of anything in his life except maybe for his first goal in an actual game.  


He bent back down to bite at Derek’s chin, to get his attention and because he could, and Derek opened his eyes. Stiles worried that he’d gone overboard with the biting, just for a second, but then Derek gave a body-long shudder and rolled him over. He didn’t seem to notice or care about the come on his chest, or that when he curled up behind Stiles, that come was now on Stiles’ back… and on his shirt.  


“Gross,” Stiles tried to tell him, even if he was drunk, but Derek put his face to the back of his neck and curled his hand around his dick and pumped until Stiles was moaning and crying out and coming all over his blankets and his stomach. Even then Derek didn’t let go, he just slid his hand to Stiles’ stomach and rubbed a little circle in the mess he’d helped make.  


Stiles knew he was drunk, but after a few minutes when he blinked and looked around, the world was still spinning, though not as fast anymore, and he was still sideways on his bed, with his feet almost dangling off the side and Derek was still spooning against his back, warm and breathing slowly and just a bit gooey along Stiles’ back area.  


Stiles’ whole face felt rubbed raw, his hips ached in a small, mostly negligible, way, and his mouth was buzzing.  


“That was nice.” Pillow talk, he could do it. Derek’s breathing hitched but then he nodded. Stiles nodded too. Derek had said they could do it again, right? He’d said they could do more, or at least he’d agreed to it. Stiles wet his mouth again and noticing his lips were tingly and liking it. “I won’t be drunk next time.”  


Derek snorted. Stiles made a face Derek couldn’t see, then rolled over so he could. Derek’s eyebrows were up. His lips were dark and a little swollen, though Stiles didn’t think that would last much longer.  


“Are you staying?” he asked, while Derek still had evidence of Stiles’ mouth on him, it made it easier, though Stiles noted that he was sober enough now to really feel fear. Derek stiffened, just for a moment, just long enough for Stiles to hate sobriety, and then he rolled Stiles back onto his side and buried his face in the back of his neck again.  


He inhaled, long and slow.  


“This is awesome,” Stiles informed him with the last of his drunken courage. “This is so awesome.”  


He could feel Derek smile, like he agreed.

**Author's Note:**

> To the sequel [Co-King of the Awkward Dorks](http://archiveofourown.org/works/505393%22)


End file.
